


Gym

by not_a_heartthrob_my_ass



Series: Peter Capaldi x female reader oneshots [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Doggy Style, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top, cunnulingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_a_heartthrob_my_ass/pseuds/not_a_heartthrob_my_ass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt I received by deafeningcatphilosopher on Tumblr:<br/>How about a really smutty one were he comes home from the gym and he wants you and he presses his front on your ass and you feel him?? Really smutty!! Please??</p><p>(These are in a series for me to keep organized, they're stand-alones and can be read in any order)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gym

**Author's Note:**

> This is RPF, real person fan fiction. Not meant to offend, just a bit of fun. Don't like, don't read. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under not-a-heartthrob-my-ass and you're more than welcome to request fics!

You’re making your bed when you hear Peter come home, the sound of the door closing shaking you from your thoughts.

“I’m upstairs!” you say loud enough for him to hear you from the ground floor. “How was gym?”

He has taken up doing more physical activity since he’s been cast as Doctor Who, mostly tapis roulant for the running and a bit of lifting. You do love the way his body has quickly hardened with the exercise. He was already strong as any man in his fifties can be, and you didn’t mind the barely noticeable softness of his tummy, but his body has dried up in a matter of weeks, leaving him all hard, nervy muscles, lithe and firm. If he was quite a sight before, he has no physical defects in your eyes now.

After a while, his reply still doesn’t come and you think maybe he didn’t hear you, or he might be up to something art-related. He’s on quite the adrenaline-high usually after gym, prone to take up the pencil or the guitar. You pat the covers neatly flat on the bed, and decide you might as well go see what your man is up to.

“Gym was _fine_.”

You gasp audibly as Peter presses his body firmly into yours, hugging you from behind, his voice on a deep, rough tone in your ear. You distinctly feel the length of his cock steel-hard against the curve of your arse. Right, talk about a fucking adrenaline high.

You are overwhelmed by the strong scent of his shampoo and conditioner as you inhale. Clearly he has just showered after gym, and you find yourself at a loss for words as the mix of sensations tugs hard at your lower abdomen, derailing your train of thought -which wasn’t exactly chaste anyway when you were just thinking about how bloody good he looks when he’s naked now.

“I- huh, I’m guessing it was more than fine.”

“ _God_. Kept thinking about you.” He breathes hotly against your ear before nipping at your earlobe. “I get so hot when I’m lifting, lying on my back.”

He holds you tight against him, rutting into you with little shame, pressing a line of wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking when you moan for him, willing you louder, just a bit of teeth just where you like it, right where your neck meets the shoulder.

He pushes his body into yours insistently until you fall on all fours on the bed in front of you, bringing him down with you, and Peter feels literally fucking all over you all at once. His hands search frantically for the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric, quickly caressing your back as he reaches for the clasp of your bra. 

“Get horny, you mean.”

He’s not afraid to use expletives, he’s played Malcolm Tucker after all, but it’s just not what he’s like. He can be harsh or cynical at times, but most of the time he’s just very meek, romantic and playful.

“God, yeah. All the time. Thinking about you. How perfect you look when you’re on top of me.”

His clever hands unhook your bra and slide underneath it, to your front, cup your breasts firmly, squeezing just the right way, kneading them, in a circular and pressing motion, finding your nipples hardened already and rolling them gently between his thumb and forefinger. That and the steady rocking of his cock precisely between your buttocks, hard and insistent, make you wet in instants, leaving you to spread your legs apart so eagerly for more, not begging for it only because you’re moaning and gasping under the assault of his tongue mapping out every inch of your neck available, one side and then the other, leaving hickeys, inhaling the scent of your hair.

“God, Peter.”

“Let me fuck you. Bent over like this. Please.”

His voice alone has a new rush of wetness spread inside your knickers, and you bite your lip at the friction of cotton against your now sensitive clit, which is begging for attention. You can feel how wet and open you already are, how sticky your underwear feels against you and you’re torn between rubbing your thighs together to shake away the unpleasant feel of damp fabric and spreading your legs farther for Peter. You end up pushing back against his shallow thrusts instead, one of your hands grabbing his hand beneath your shirt and guiding it to your zipper.

“Yes. _Fuck yes_.”

He groans in what might be relief and his hands quickly get rid of your shirt first, then he lets you stand on your knees so you can throw your bra aside too. He makes quick work of your jeans and knickers, then he pushes you carefully but swiftly back on all fours. 

You miss his touch like hell in the seconds he spends unzipping himself and lowering his trousers and underwear, your skin feels raw with the need for him. 

He unceremoniously licks one of his palms and spreads his saliva on your clit, your labia. No need really, you’re dripping anyway and he seems to notice, giving a small noise between the aroused and the pleased. His left hand fondles your breasts in turn, as he slips one finger of the right inside you.

Your muscles clench hard around his finger as he pushes all the way in, up to the knuckle, new wetness surrounding his finger as he starts to move it in and out with a steady rhythm, all too easily for how open you already are. It’s not nearly enough but Peter can tell immediately, and adds a second finger, speeding up the pace, curling his fingers upwards, rubbing the fingertips where he knows you like it most, shuddering moans leaving your lips, your toes curling with the intensity of the pleasure as you fist the sheets tightly. 

His fingers are long and slender, bony, every time he fingers you you can only think that they were fucking made for the job. He can reach so deep inside you, with such ease, he can make you come faster than even yourself ever could, screaming and writhing for him. You can feel the hardness of his every knuckle sliding out of your slick cunt and back in as he fucks you with his fingers, bringing you so close to orgasm already, one obscene, wet noise after the other, his hands shivering and his breath hitching out of the sheer eroticism of the sight of you.

His fingers slide completely out of you with a pop, but you immediately feel the head of his cock take their place, pressing against your entrance. His slick fingers move to your clit, moving in fast circles as he thrusts into you with a fluid move, groaning as he fills you, hot and hard. Your muscles contract around him as you moan softly and push back against him, encouraging him to start moving.

He begins to thrust shallowly into you, almost on instinct, following his need.

“Fuck, darling, you feel so good. _Oh_.”

He bends closer over you, the hand that was at your breasts now still at your hip, merely holding you, supporting him. He rests his head between your shoulder blades as he keeps a fast, urgent rhythm, breathing heavily against your skin as a sheen of sweat covers it, dropping a sloppy kiss to the top of your spine every now and then.

For a few minutes you hardly feel the friction of his fingers on your clit for how slick they were, but soon the wetness shifts and dries up a little and that too adds to the rush of sensations, your hips bucking into his fingers and his cock alternatively, and you forget to think as you come hard, moaning his name. You lose yourself in the scent of sex that fills the room and the noises Peter makes as you constrict hard clench hard around him, deep groans low in his throat and helpless little gasps, mixing with your own moans and the sound of his hips slapped against your arse, fast and hard, thrusting through your orgasm, enough to make your skin burn, somehow only adding to the pleasure, peaking as you climax a second time, nearly screaming, before Peter can follow, grunting his release into your hair, his body stiffening as you feel his warm semen fill you.

Peter carefully pulls out of you before collapsing on the empty side of the bed, breathing heavily, his face gorgeously reddened and pleasure written all over his face, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. His chest rises and falls rapidly under his shirt, damp with sweat, and his trousers and underwear are still half-way down his thighs. His body is limp, completely relaxed, melting into the mattress; he shoots a hazy look at you, and smiles.

“Hello,” he says out of the blue. He giggles.

You smile in response. Your knees are wobbly. 

“Hello to you.” 

You move next to him, and press a kiss to his lips as you lie down next to him. He deepens the kiss, cupping your face gently to hold you in place and pushing his tongue in your mouth when you open it for him, kissing you slowly and passionately like only he can, and it makes a warm shiver run down your spine. 

After a long moment, he breaks the contact and lets his head fall back on the pillow. You rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling just a little into his neck, and start to distractedly caress his chest. 

“That was… unexpected,” you say after a while.

He stiffens a little in your embrace.

“But good?” he asks, looking down at you, and you see his lack of self-confidence peek out.

“Yeah. _Really good_ ,” you reassure him, and you feel his body relax again.

You slide on top of him, your weight on your elbows on his chest, regarding him from above.

"I had just made the bed,” you sigh, noticing just now the rumpled state of the sheets.

"So?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"So I'll have to make the bed again. Your fault. That needs _payback_ ," you say as seductively as you can muster, knowing he’s very quick at picking up innuendoes.

You stand on your knees, straddling him. He looks so good beneath you, his eyes darting between your face and your breasts, his cheeks and neck still flushed so perfectly by pleasure. By you. He smirks.

"I think I've paid you back just fine."

"That wasn't _payback_. That was _you_. Being horny."

There is an amused and mischievous spark in his eyes as he looks up into your eyes, those light blue irises seemingly looking straight through you, as his hands travel lazily up your thighs, making you shiver. His own hands are still lightly trembling due to his recent orgasm, but he’s firm in caressing the curve of your arse, the back of your thighs.

“Pay you back I shall, if I must,” he decides, acting perfectly, pretending to be one who has just accepted a tiresome fate. “Come closer, darling,” he murmurs then, his voice dropping just an octave lower.

You obey, allowing him to wrap his arms around your legs, bracing yourself firmly on your knees as he pulls you towards him. You inhale sharply as you realize what his intentions are, as he spreads your legs open wide for him and aligns his mouth with the apex of your thighs.

“Peter...”

“Relax. I’ll hold you. I trust you.”

He slides his forearms beneath your thighs and pushes your buttocks encouragingly, inhaling your scent deeply and tipping his head forward and up to lick your clit with just the tip of his tongue. You shudder and feel a rush of heat and wetness at your core.

“Come on,” he reassures, voice low.

You give in all to easily, practically sitting on his face if it weren’t for him holding you tight, at just the right distance for him to bury his face in you, lapping slowly, taking his time as he feels you gasp at his every move, still sensitive after your orgasm, groaning as he tastes your come and his mixed together inside you. The noise reverberates through you, making you moan in turn. You can feel him smile against you, followed by absolutely obscene noises of what you know is sincere appreciation as he licks you zealously, expertly, making sure to make you constantly wet for him, so as soon as he licks you clean his mouth is filled again by a new clenching of your muscles. 

Despite having just come down from the high of climax, you feel yourself rapidly getting close to another, your breath hitching and your cheeks burning with pleasure, your skin covered in goose bumps again. Your hands fist Peter’s hair, tightly, which only has him moan louder with pleasure as you ride his face, every shame forgotten, rocking your hips back and forth as rhythmically as you can manage, trying to direct his tongue to touch your were it’s most pleasurable, at times even dipping your hips down hard in his mouth, pushing his head back against the pillow as he sucks hard on your clit, Peter giving a little delighted whimper as he makes you nearly scream with pleasure.

Your eyes are screwed shut as your legs tremble against him with a mixture of pleasure and effort. You let your weight fully on him and he stills your body with his strong arms, focusing his efforts on you clit, the tip of his tongue hard on it, rubbing precisely where you’re most sensitive. Your legs are shaking. Your hands are so tightly closed around his curls that it must hurt. Your breath comes ragged, irregular. You try to rock your hips to get more of his touch, he’s driving you mad with just the right amount of friction, holding you tight still, and you know you’re just so close, so close. 

He sucks hard at your clit, and keeps at it. It’s a powerful and unexpected shock of pleasure, and you cover your mouth to stifle a high-pitched scream that gives into a series of short, breathy moans as you shudder against him and come hard all over his lips, his chin, which his when he lets go of your clit to swallow every last drop of your orgasm, making you whimper as you quickly become hypersensitive, your grip in his hair loosening as your body goes limp in his arms.

You breathe heavily, vision blurred, while he shifts you farther from his face, and you collapse against his chest. His breath is short too, your body rising and falling with every expanding and contracting of his lungs.

You look up at him to find his gaze fixed on you, smiling, cheeks even redder than before. His nose and mouth and chin are wet and sticky with you, and somehow that’s the hottest thing imaginable. You reach forward and you share a heated kiss, sloppy and messy as hell as you lick yourself off him. It feels like the filthiest and the best thing you’ve ever experienced, and you don’t part until you both forget to breathe through your noses and start gasping against each other’s mouth. Peter giggles.

“Happy now?” he asks.

“Oh, you’re just fishing for compliments.”

You exchange shorter, sweeter kisses, lips against lips.

“What if I am?”

He bites gently at your bottom lip.

“I love you.”

“And I you,” he answers simply, moving a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

He kisses you chin, then your neck. As he moves beneath you, you feel something poking at your thigh. You turn rapidly to check and then look back at him, who smiles bashfully. He’s more than half-hard again already. 

“You enjoyed that,” you say in an almost accusing tone.

“Hottest sight I’ve ever witnessed.” 

His kisses grow more insistent, yet remain chaste, over your throat, your collarbone, your jawline. You shiver.

“Peter...”

“Let me make love to you again, darlin’. Please.”

His mouth travels lower, towards your breasts, and you already know you’ve lost.

“There’s laundry to do. Dinner.”

“We can order dinner. And who cares about laundry? Why are you even thinking of that when you’re in bed with me?”

He pouts and you laugh at that. 

You pull yourself up, straddling him again. You lower your hips and rock them against his hardening prick, teasing you both, feeling him grow longer, thicker beneath you as he watches you raptly, pupils blown.

“This what you think of when you’re lifting?” you ask playfully.

He takes in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, yeah.”

You keep the motion going best as you can while you unbutton his shirt. He helps eagerly. He’s fully hard by now, the feel of him underneath you is tantalizing but you ignore the need for him that’s rapidly rising already and undress him fully, lowering his trousers and boxers that were stuck at his knees, taking off his socks.

Finally you take his cock in hand and let yourself sink on him. You both gasp as he fills you, buried hilt-deep inside you. You’re both sensitive, skin sweated and hot, but you’re tired, and you start a slow rhythm.

Peter’s hands find your hips, just helping you rather than directing you. You rock your hips in a wide circle, letting him almost slide out of you before taking him fully inside again, the tip of his cock hitting just the right spot inside you every time. 

Soon, his hands grip you tighter and you quicken your pace, leaning forward over him to kiss him briefly in between frantic breaths. You’re dripping wet and your muscles clench hard around him at every thrust of his body into yours. His eyes close as his mouth falls open and he moans quietly in pleasure. Your eyes close too, as just the sounds he makes bring you closer, and you let yourself listen to him, to his body slapped against yours, harder now, faster.

Your clit is too sensitive now to be touched, but Peter is more that capable of making you come just by finding the right spot inside you, rubbing his cock against it, thrusting to hit it. He knows how to touch you, your arse, your breasts, the way he caresses you and kisses you adds to the pleasure. The way he talks to you, voice gone rough and deep, his Scottish accent getting thicker for some reason.

“Fuck. Come for me, darlin’. I’m almost there. Please. Let me see you. Let me _feel_ you.”

His breath is hot against your ear, his heart wild against your chest. His words are like magic to your body, and at his next thrust you come so perfectly around, in a long, shuddering wave of heat that spreads from your spine to your limbs. It feels so good, and it seems to last forever as Peter thrust through your orgasm, ten, twenty times, only prolonging your pleasure as you ride out every last drop of it. You open your eyes as ecstasy just starts leaving your body, replaced by the warm sensation of Peter coming inside you as he whimpers your name with such adoration your legs shake.

You fall asleep together in a mess of hot, sated and spent limbs, your body half on top of his, his arms protective around you, in freshly changed sheets that smell of sex and are so rumpled there’s no doubt what you’ve been doing in them. You get the best sleep of your life.


End file.
